


Toska

by anasnastias



Series: Tоска [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Brother Complex, Coming of Age, Complicated Relationships, Dark, Death, Denial, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Exploitation, Exploring Dark Themes, Exploring morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forbidden Love, Grooming, Hallucinations, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jealousy, Loss, Loss of Control, Loss of Trust, Loss of Virginity, Love, Memory Loss, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Protective Older Brothers, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers, Sibling Incest, Sister Complex, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whole lotta losses in here doe, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anasnastias/pseuds/anasnastias
Summary: (Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness)Forbidden love. New-found desire. Repressed power.And a beastly murderer that knows more about Abby, than she does herself.Or:A dark tale about growing up.





	Toska

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of my Original Work, written in German. :D  
I do not support unhealthy relationships and non-con stuff in real life. This is just fiction. <3  
Please be aware of the warnings. This story will explore dark themes and there are several moral issues in this story. Stay safe y'all.

* * *

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

She cannot stop her legs from shaking.

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

She cannot press her body further into the comfort of her chair.

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

She notices, how she slips back into a memory.

Snowflakes melt on Abigail Wood's flushed skin. She takes a deep breath in, before exhaling slowly, as if to not disturb the snowflakes around her. The fog surrounding her gets thicker the more time she wastes while making her decision. Soon, she won't be able to recognise his face anymore, as she notices how the fog begins to engulf him. She needs to hurry. Her hands are hurting from holding the axe in an iron grip, but she cannot let go of it - under no circumstances.

"You are everything to me." the strained voice speaks.

Graves Snow is standing right in front of her. His white shirt is dirty, bloody and full of holes. She cannot hear his voice, even though his lips are moving and his green eyes a blazing like Greek fire.

Everything is calm around her. Abby closes her eyes and musters up the strength to do, what she came here for in the first place.

All she has done, known and felt - everything was leading her to this point.

When she opens her eyes, she is glad to see that Graves is still angry with her, that she is not alone in this mess.

"I will bring you home.", she says gently. Is that really her voice? She feels as if she has changed too much over the last few weeks. How many times has she died already? Was it two times? Or three?

"It is too late now!" the strained voice screeches, but Abby pays it no mind.

Suddenly, as if realising what Abby is about to do, Graves starts shaking his head, his eyes almost pleading and so full of desperation.

She cannot bear to see the disappointment in his eyes and instead bites her cheek until she tastes blood.

When Abby looks him in the eyes, Graves must realise that it is a lost cause, that he has lost _her. _

"You don't know what you are doing!" the strained voice screams.

Growling, Abby lifts her axe to throw her first hit. She finally understands her purpose, her raison d'être. 

"Ms. Woods?"

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

Abby blinks herself slowly back into reality and focuses her tired gaze on the older woman in front of her.

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

"Do you remember why you had to come here?"

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

She does not answer. Instead, she listens to the constant clacking of the metronome.

_Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack._

She does not want to remember why she is there.


End file.
